


Where There is Fire

by BlueDysania



Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hotel Dumort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentions of Suicide, Open to Interpretation, Pretending He isn't Protective, Protective!Raphael, Raphael Blames a Lot, Saphael, Simon is still a Newborn, Vampire Simon, Vampires take Care of their Own, attempted suicide, or gen, or pre-slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-30
Updated: 2016-10-30
Packaged: 2018-08-28 00:24:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8423545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueDysania/pseuds/BlueDysania
Summary: Raphael is patient when Simon spirals into despair.Because Raphael knows, and now Simon knows, and Fairchild will never understand what she did to him in the name of love.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first foray into the fandom of Shadowhunters and after surfing through the existing fanworks, I fell in love with Saphael. So this came about one day when I was just messing about with music and drabbles. I hope I do them justice, I did take some liberties with the information on vampires, so if phrases are incorrect in the lore I apologize.

Raphael was no stranger to guiding fledglings through their first weeks of being reborn as vampires. Camille rarely took the time to care for her newly turned, simply enjoying the rush of breaking hearts and dreams of the idealistic. No, their instruction came from her second in command; now leader of the DuMort coven.

 

Those few weeks are the most dangerous.

 

The first minutes were easy. Simply let them feed, let them rage, and then let them run. So long as they don’t interfere with the mundane, allowing them to burn through their first dregs of blood is usually a good way to exhaust the fledgling and herd them back to the relative safety of Hotel DuMort. Even enhanced senses, speed, and physical power are nothing in the face of the promise of blood to a starving vampire.

 

Simon Lewis had proven time and time again that he is an exception when he vanished and only returned when on his last legs; and still refused to drink the fresh blood caged with him.

 

Fledglings tend to cycle through three basic emotions in the first weeks. Rage at any and everyone around them with the raw strength every fledgling possess at their disposal. Shame at their lust for the taste of blood that their new biology can no longer do without. And lastly mourning, for the mundane family and life that has been cruelly torn away from them.

 

The mourning is what always lasts the longest. Becoming a vampire means losing so much. An immortal life means outliving everyone you knew before. You lose your faith and the ability to touch that which is holy. Food is no longer something that can satisfy and sunlight can no longer comfort.

 

Raphael thinks, and knows, that the sun is the most crippling loss of all. Such a brilliant, hopeful light that symbolizes everything good in the world. And it brutally incinerates them.

_No_. It denies.

_You do not belong here. With the hopeful and the good._

_No_.

 

And they are left with the pale imitation that can only glow with light the sun gives to it.

 

Simon Lewis is a creature that thrived in light, his soul seeped in goodness.

 

Watching the fledgling stumble in the dark brought a pain to his unbeating heart he hadn’t felt in quite some time. That and anger. Clary Fairchild had chosen this path for him and while Raphael would never turn away one of his own, he wondered if this wanna-be Shadowhunter knew just what she had done to her ‘best friend’. Did she know what she had condemned Simon too?

 

He imagines that in her place he would have staked the boy before the sun rose on the night he died.

 

But that is because he knows, and now Simon knows, and Fairchild never will.

 

Simon will adapt because vampires take care of their own. But the first few weeks are dangerous and not always for the ones around the fledgling.

 

Sitting by the charred and bleeding body, still in undeath, Raphael blames.

 

He blames Fairchild for the state of Simon. From the wounds on his body brought upon by the sun and for the ripping gauges in his spirit that led him to kneel in front of the curtains he left open for the sunrise.

 

Fledglings will call themselves monsters and abominations. It is hard to argue. Most fledglings have attempted to let the sun claim their lives at least once. Only the most determined have succeeded. Those were the ones that simply tossed their bodies from windows or doorframes and were dust before hitting the ground.

 

Simon screamed the moment the sunlight was strong enough to singe, and he wasn’t weak for doing so. The sound led the closest vampires in the DuMort to shatter his door and claw him away from their celestial enemy. Raphael had taken Simon from their hands the moment it was determined he hadn’t been exposed long enough to be life-threatening.

 

Enclosed in the gaudy office he still hadn’t had time to redecorate, Raphael tipped another glass of chilled blood through the black, cracked lips and then leaned back to refill the chalice. Setting the decanter down, he observed the boy distantly.

 

Simon had stripped to only a pair of cotton pants before waiting for the sun so his entire chest was covered in a charred layer of flesh only broken by lines of exposed flesh. The left side of his face was no better, though the right had been spared from the impulsive need to shy away from the pain. Raphael’s first move was to ensure that Simon’s left eye hadn’t been burned away. Luckily, the eyelid had not fully been destroyed and hours later, the skin and flesh was fully formed, if raw.

 

The boy twitched, jerking on the duvet and leaving black chips of burnt flesh to fall on the white sheet he lay on. Broken, raspy whimpers were a relief after the screaming that had filled the Hotel in the early morning.

 

Though the muted calls for ‘Clary’ in his delirium had not been pleasant. If those desperate calls for help were magically answered and the red-headed Shadowhunter appeared in front of him, he might be tempted to let her help.

 

Angel-blood was one of the purest of bloods and Simon would recover much faster. After he had sliced her neck open and disposed of the body of course.

 

It wasn’t that he was angry on Simon’s behalf of course. Fairchild had caused a fledgling under his protection stress, danger, and harm with her crusade to save her mother and selfish desire to keep a friend so much she damned him to this life.

 

After Camille, he had vowed to do his coven justice and they looked to him. Whether Fairchild liked it or not, Simon was his now.

 

This little act of attempted suicide was on her shoulders, her responsibility and burden to bear. He would make sure she bared it. One day when she needed something from him and his coven and tried to act like a can-do-no-wrong Shadowhunter that she was slowly becoming, he would quietly inform her what her ‘right’ choice had led her ‘best friend’ to do. And he would smile at her because it was all her fault.

 

Sunk low in his thoughts of passive vengeance against the world-tipping Shadowhunter, he was stirred almost an hour later by more coherent mumbles from Simon. Raphael took the chalice and leaned forward. The sight of Simon’s less burnt and more raw skin was welcome, he was healing well. By midnight he should be well enough to stand, if not wobble.

 

Lowering the chalice, a smirk lifted a corner of his mouth as Simon’s mouth opened, tips of pearl fangs glinting in the low light. Tipping the cup, he listened to the even swallows and decided that any damage in his inner throat was now healed as well. Once the blood was drained, a huff of exasperation at the last lick given to the chalice rim, he set it aside and looked to his desk.

 

Camille had left mountains of correspondence, letters, disputes, and finances to him to manage after she was overthrown. He had made a dent but there was always more to do. And if the mumbles growing louder meant he had to listen to his fledgling calling for Fairchild, Simon was well enough for him to take a break from babysitting to do some work.

 

“Ra…”

 

Half-way to his desk, he turned, hearing the quiet call. He stared at the fidgeting body, waiting.

 

Simon’s hand seemed to skitter across the sheet and then the air, cloudy brown eyes opening into the barest of slits, “Raphael?”

 

Back at his seat in seconds, he caught the still lightly blistered hand and gently lowered it back to the sheet. His fingers came away smeared with a touch of blood from where the skin had split on Simon’s knuckles and he sighed, licking it away.

 

“ _Dios_ , what am I going to do with you, baby?”

 

“Raphael?”

 

Raphael hummed an affirmative, taking in the clear signs of Simon barely even aware of himself. Simon’s hand skittered about again and Raphael grabbed it before he could split his healing skin again, muttering a curse.

 

“Yes, _idiota_ , yes it’s me.”

 

Simon’s hand tightened, refusing to let go, and for the first-time Raphael realized what Simon had been calling for.

 

Sighing through his nose, he leaned over to make direct eye contact, lightly tapping Simon’s cheek for attention.

 

“I’m right here.” He said quietly and waited.

 

Simon blinked up at him blankly before quirking a weak smile that caused blood to well in the corner of his mouth by newly broken skin. Raphael scoffed, swiping it with a finger, “Sleep. You heal faster when you’re unconscious.”

 

His snap did nothing to banish the lingering smile but Simon did fall still again. With a fledgling’s steel grip on his hand. Resigned to his place unless he wanted to break Simon’s fingers and be forced to deal with an even more injured fledgling, he lifted his blood-smeared finger and licked it clean.

 

Simon had only begun his first week and it would only be harder as time went on. Until Simon accepted what he was and everything that came with it, he would stumble.

 

But Raphael has had a lot of practice and with his coven more unified than ever with Camille gone, their baby vampire would be just fine.


End file.
